


No Problem So Awful

by Pouler (poulerslashes)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poulerslashes/pseuds/Pouler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asahi spends a lot of time thinking about his teammate, but that’s not weird, right? Totally not weird. Except that it’s very weird and he’s probably a terrible person. Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Problem So Awful

**Author's Note:**

> Cannot say enough to thank lilienpasse who somehow convinced me to write this, and then very patiently helped me do so. Our mutual headcanons about Asahi and Nishinoya’s respective families are not based on anything remotely canonical. The kanji of Nishinoya’s shirts can be found at the end of the fic.
> 
> "There's no problem so awful, that you can't add some guilt to it and make it even worse.”  
> -Calvin and Hobbes

Nishinoya had a wiry little frame. Sometimes he was a bit like a newborn fawn, all knees and elbows and newfound mobility, but other times he possessed all the quiet smoothness of a green sapling bending against the wind. On the court he was perhaps a combination of the two, or maybe neither, or maybe something fiercer, more wild, more terrifying. Asahi contemplated the possibility with a pencil balanced between his upper lip and his nose. What was it, exactly?

Sometimes when Nishinoya dove in a particularly dramatic fashion, Asahi could see the little pale flash of the back of his thigh up the leg of his shorts, the smooth furrow of his spine near his waistband. He had deceptively delicate wrists and smooth underarms, sharp pointed elbows and a clean, pale neck.

What was he, exactly?

"AZUMANE."

Asahi sat up straight, knocking his knees smartly against the underside of his desk. "Yes!" His pencil clattered across the desktop and fell to the floor.

His teacher was staring him down with a look that could curdle milk. The whole class had turned to see, eager to witness his misery.

"What is the answer, Azumane?"

He sat there, flushed and dumb as an apple. "I'm sorry, sir," he said finally. "I wasn't listening."

The teacher gave a sigh of great suffering and turned to a girl on the front row. "Can you answer, Higashi?" She could. She did. After the appropriate amount of staring and giggling, the rest of the class abandoned him, and the lecture went on.

Asahi groaned silently and lowered his forehead onto his desk. Nishinoya would probably laugh at him too, call him dumb, whack him startlingly hard on the back, and then tell him to stop moping. Maybe he was right. He could see the grin across Nishinoya's face – the crinkle at the top of his nose, right between his flashing eyes.

"Azumane," the teacher said again, less patiently.

Asahi sighed. "I'll go to the counselor," he agreed.

The counselor didn't say anything new really, simply lectured about avoiding distractions, focusing in class, this is your third year Azumane-kun, what do you plan to do after graduation Azumane-kun, it's important to do well Azumane-kun, are you getting enough sleep, are your extracurriculars too strenuous, perhaps a different club would be better – at which point Asahi had awkwardly agreed to try harder and yes he understood and yes he would focus from now on.

Thank god it was almost lunchtime.

~

Practice was good. On the court Asahi almost felt like someone else, as though he could step out of himself and into the sort of person who could be considered Karasuno's ace. He felt taller. He stood taller, probably, no longer obligated to hunch apologetically at everyone around him. The ball was a satisfying sting against his hand. And Nishinoya was behind him, which made him feel strong, and almost – brave.

"Asahi!" someone shouted, and he looked up just in time to get his arms out in front of his body. The ball hit his left arm and careened to the side.

"Sorry!" he called, holding his hand up in apology. "I'll get the next one!" He could feel Daichi's glare from across the court and tried to ignore the prickling feeling it gave him on the back of his neck.

"You gotta wake up, Asahi-san!" a familiar voice laughed behind him. As expected, he felt the _whap!_ across his back, forceful enough knock him forward a step, then Nishinoya jogged past him off the court.

"Not so hard, Nishinoya," he complained weakly, and Nishinoya just saluted at him without turning around. He wore a shirt that said 'Combined Efforts'. Nishinoya was sweating heavily and the white shirt clung to his narrow back. Asahi could see his shoulder blades gliding underneath the fabric.

"Say, Hinata," Asahi said. The boy was opposite him through the net. "What would you say Nishinoya is?"

The look that Hinata pinned on him was equal parts confusion and apprehension, as though it was a pop quiz that had caught him unprepared. "Uh, he's... the libero?"

"No, no," Asahi laughed, "well, yes, I mean, he is – but, what I mean is –"

And then Kageyama's fist came down onto Hinata's head with the command to _PAY ATTENTION, IDIOT,_ and that was the end of the conversation.

It went somewhat more smoothly after that, until Ukai split them into alternating sets of 3-on-3. The first years were playing with Daichi and Tanaka (a repeat performance, Asahi learned), and so Asahi was standing to the side of the court wiping sweat off his face when Nishinoya came to stand in front of him.

Nishinoya tilted his head back slightly while he took a drink. Behind him and slightly to the side, Asahi got a perfect view of the nape of Nishinoya's neck, where the wispy hairs at his hairline had been plastered flat by sweat. A trail of perspiration slipped from behind his ear, down the line of this throat into the collar of his shirt. When he leaned forward to shout encouragement at Tanaka, another drop escaped from his hairline to track the back of his neck.

It was not really a conscious action. Asahi's arm was already committed to the movement before his brain caught up, and then his hand was there to catch that droplet of sweat. He wiped it away with his thumb. Asahi noted absently that his hand was so large that he could cover Nishinoya's entire neck from the base of his scruffy hair to the collar of his shirt. Nishinoya's skin was a shade fairer than his own. Beneath Asahi's thumb, the corded muscle of Nishinoya's neck was tense. He tapped it gently, thoughtfully.

The muscle shifted beneath Nishinoya's skin as he turned. His eyes came around to squarely fix on Asahi's, and it was at that moment that Asahi realized his hand was still against Nishinoya's neck. He froze, a full blush already prickling up his chest to cover his throat and face.

"Uh," Nishinoya said.

"Uh!" Asahi echoed. _His hand was still on Nishinoya's neck_. Asahi dropped his hand as though it had been burned. "Sorry, I... you had..." He coughed suddenly, choking on nothing. What was he doing? What was he _doing_?

Nishinoya's ears were pink. Asahi had never seen him look so baffled. He felt light-headed and queasy. "I have to go," he blurted.

"Wait," Nishinoya said. Some of the others had turned toward them now, and Asahi felt the shame of it like a hot, sick jolt down his spine. Had anyone else seen? Did they _know_?

"I have to _go_ ," Asahi repeated. He turned on the spot and walked across the court without another word.

"Wait, Asahi-san!" Nishinoya called, but he barely heard it. Daichi was probably calling too, but Asahi's ears were ringing so loudly that he didn't hear anything between that spot and the door. He walked out of the gym in his practice gear without even stopping to change his shoes. He walked off the paved pathway into the grass, and he kept walking for a long time.

~

He was nearly a mile from the school when he realized it was raining. The water was cool against his hot skin, and it brought him back to himself a little bit. He realized with trepidation that he had walked out in the middle of practice – and how would _that_ read to everyone given his past behavior – and _why_ did they even keep him around, honestly.

It felt as if some seal had been broken. It seemed so obvious all of a sudden – how had he never noticed this? He could see it now so clearly. There, in the gym, with his hand against Nishinoya's nape, Asahi had wanted to slip his fingers below the collar of his shirt. He had wanted to slide his hand further down, to palm the planes and smooth divots of Nishinoya's back. He was attracted to Nishinoya. He was _really_ attracted to Nishinoya.

Oh _god_. Asahi stopped walking. He covered his face in his hands. How long? How long had he felt like this? How long had it been festering in his brain like a cancer?

He remembered the training camp, Nishinoya stepping out of the showers as he dried his hair. Asahi distinctly remembered thinking to himself that even though he was small, he was lithe and firm like a wildcat. He had sharp little hipbones and a well-defined stomach, and his sleek arms flexed beautifully as he rubbed his head with a towel.

Asahi clapped his hands against his cheeks. Who thought things like that about their teammates – about their friends? God, how had he not realized this? How many mental metaphors had he made today alone about Nishinoya's body – and how dense was he for not realizing sooner that he was using those metaphors to avoid the truth.

"Asahi!" Suga's voice, calling after him. Asahi hunched reflexively in terror. He desperately surveyed his surroundings. He could hear Suga's feet pounding on sidewalk as he approached at a good clip. Asahi thought absurdly for a moment that maybe he might climb a tree. His hands were on the lowest branch and his foot was against the trunk by the time Suga caught up to him and grabbed the back of his scrimmage vest.

"What are you doing?" Suga gasped, out of breath. He tugged Asahi away from the tree and under the overhang of a nearby building. "Are you alright?" he managed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm okay," Asahi said instinctively. "It's fine."

Suga gave him a look like he had sprouted antlers. "It's _fine_?" he said. "You walked out of practice! You didn't come back!"

Asahi flinched. Suga looked really worried. He had that pinched look around his eyes that Asahi had only seen a handful of times. The last time had been during the match with Dateko the past spring. "I'm fine, really," Asahi said, "I just... I felt sick." The weakness of the excuse made him grimace at himself.

It was clear that Suga wasn't buying it. "You felt sick." He crossed his arms. "So a nice, long walk in the rain, in your practice clothes, that seemed like the best idea."

Asahi rubbed his neck miserably. He was drenched from head to toe. He could feel bedraggled lengths of hair sticking to his cheeks. Suga didn't look much better, but at least he'd had the sense to change his shoes. Asahi's own squelched unpleasantly as he shifted from foot to foot and dripped onto the walkway. With a pang he realized he was touching his neck with the same hand that had touched Nishinoya's. He flushed again and dropped that hand to fist at his side. "Suga," he said softly, "I think I was really wrong about myself." Asahi felt dangerously close to tears.

Suga's face softened. He uncrossed his arms and reached forward to touch Asahi's arm gently. "What's wrong?" he asked again. "Is it the team?" Suga looked nervous for a moment, and then asked, cautiously, "do you regret coming back?"

"No!" Asahi countered quickly, perhaps a shade too forcefully. "No," he said again, quieter. "I'm _really_ glad I came back." He allowed himself a tentative smile. "You guys, you were all right about me there."

Suga gave him a little grin, though his eyebrows remained downturned. "It's something else, then?"

Asahi thought about Nishinoya turning toward him in the gym, eyes wide and questioning in his face. He felt shame flow over him like rainwater, prickling from the top of his head to his fingertips. "I made a mistake."

"With Nishinoya?"

He started. "What? Did he say something?" Oh god, he'd probably be off the team tomorrow.

"Not really," Suga said, shaking his head. A tiny knot eased in Asahi's chest. "He did say you were acting strange."

"I've been..." Asahi fought for the correct word. "I've been distracted lately. I'm sorry." He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I'm figuring it out."

Suga shook him hard by the shoulder. "Hey. You don't have to handle things on your own, you know?"

Asahi gave him a spare smile. "How mad is Daichi?"

Suga waved his hand blithely. "I can smooth it over. I think everyone else is just worried."

A wave of guilt passed through Asahi. "I'm sorry if I upset anyone," he said.

Suga shook his head again. "You'll be there tomorrow, right?"

Asahi nodded in return. "I can't afford to miss any more," he admitted.

"Good." Suga grinned at him. The rain was easing up. Patches of light began peeking through the clouds. "Would you like me to walk with you?"

Asahi exhaled aloud. He felt such fondness for Suga in that moment. "No," he said, "I can manage. But –" Asahi clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks." He meant it.

Suga punched him lightly in the bicep. "I'll have someone bring your stuff by after practice is over."

"Not Daichi, okay?"

"And not Nishinoya?"

Asahi flinched. Suga was too shrewd, sometimes. "No, just." He shrugged. "I don't know. I'll explain it all later, alright?"

Suga gave him a little shove. "You look awful, by the way. Get more sleep."

"You're one to talk," Asahi countered. "Go mom someone else." They grinned at each other.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Suga said.

"Yeah," Asahi agreed. Things had always been easy between them. He was immensely grateful for it. Suga waved over his shoulder as he left, and Asahi turned back toward home.

He was nearly dry by the time he made it to his front door, but his shoes would probably take overnight. Asahi stood outside the door for nearly a minute before he gained the courage to open it and go inside.

The house was quiet. "I'm home," he called tentatively.

"In the dining room!" his mom called back brightly.

Asahi sighed heavily. He toed out of his wet shoes and socks. Oh, what would she say. And what could he say in return? Sorry, Mom. Sorry you have a terrible waste of a son.

She sat at the table with her magazines spread around. Three were open to knitting patterns. "You're home early today." She looked homey and lovely in the way she always had since he was very little, with her mousey hair fastened back in a wooden clip and a half-forgotten cup of tea sitting in front of her. Asahi felt a lump in his throat. "What do you think of this one, love?" she asked without looking up. She was pointing at a cabled sweater in shades of brown and green. "I think it would bring out your eyes, don't you?" When he didn't respond right away she looked up at him, finally noticing the disheveled mess of a son that had wandered into her house. Her eyes widened as she took him in. "Asahi! What happened to you?"

"I walked home," he mumbled. His voice caught. He looked at the ceiling and felt his lip trembling. "I didn't feel well," he tried to explain. He felt a few hot tears slip down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said weakly, and he sat at the table and buried his face in his arms. He wallowed in his misery for a few moments, probably longer than was really necessary. It didn't matter. He was home.

"Asahi," his mother said patiently. "Asahi, dear."

He sat up and swiped one hand down his face. "I don't know, Mom," he said, "I don't know anymore."

She reached over and patted his hand. "I thought you said things were better, dear. Since you rejoined the club?"

"They were!" he said. "They _are_. I just –" Asahi looked at the ceiling and sighed so heavily that his shoulders lifted and settled a few inches. "It's not about volleyball. It's about me."

"Asahi, you don't always have to be so dramatic," his mother said mildly. "Now go change out of those clothes. I made stew. Do you want rice too?"

Asahi sat at the table for a moment longer. "Yes, please," he said finally, and did as she said.

~

After washing his face, brushing his hair, and changing into a worn pair of jeans and a threadbare t-shirt, Asahi began to feel like himself again. The food also helped immensely, especially since it was his mom's.

"Now," she said when they had finished eating, as he helped her clear the dishes, "tell me what's wrong."

Asahi festered. "I'm afraid to say," he blurted. He rolled a spoon over and over in his hands. "It's not volleyball, but... it's someone on the team."

"Someone you dislike?"

He fought the fear. He wrestled. He felt it gumming up his chest. It would be so easy to give in. It would be so easy to sit down, swallow himself up and say 'yes', and then forever after regret it. Asahi didn't look at his mother. "Someone I like _too much_ ," he corrected. He felt hot and lightheaded in the aftermath of the statement, and shockingly, amazingly _brave_.

When she didn't respond right away, the bravery began slipping away handhold by handhold. His hands were shaking around the dishes he held, so he set them back on the table. At length he risked a glance at his mom. She stood in the same place, regarding him with a quizzical look. She didn't look angry or ashamed. Asahi felt a little better.

"Asahi, dear," she said slowly, "it's a boy?"

He looked away again. Heat was rising up the back of his neck, making his ears ache. Asahi nodded silently.

"Does he like you?"

Asahi hadn't considered this. He thought of the look that Nishinoya had pinned on him earlier in the gym. "I don't think so."

"Well!" his mother said, affronted. "Why wouldn't he? You're handsome! You're kind!" She huffed angrily. "What's wrong with him?" She put the bowl in her hands down on the table with a sharp _klink_.

Asahi laughed suddenly as relief flooded through him. "It's not like that, Mom. He's just... not like that, I think." All the same, he felt lighter than he had all day. It didn't seem so big now that someone else knew.

His mother began clearing dishes again. "That explains it," she said. "Your counselor called today about your trouble concentrating in class." She put the dishes in the sink and turned on the water. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't really know. Maybe awhile." He brought her the rest of the dishes.

"Well..." She shut off the water and turned toward him. Her face was stern, but she did not look angry. "Asahi," she began slowly, "is this a new thing? Or are you..." His mother gestured with one hand, palm up, in a wide horizontal arc in front of her body, as though inviting him to complete the sentence.

He wasn't quite there yet. "I don't know," Asahi said, and it was the truth. He had never been much _anything_ , really. "It's very new."

His mom nodded thoughtfully. "You're really too young for all this anyway," she said. "Maybe it's for the best."

Asahi shrugged dejectedly. "It doesn't feel like the best."

She gave him a small smile and patted him gently on the cheek. "I know, dear." She returned to the sink and began to clean the dishes. "Let's keep this between us for now, alright?"

"You won't tell Dad?"

"No, not until you want me too." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "With him away so much and your brothers off on their own, I feel like you and I are our own little team, you know?" He did know.

Mostly Asahi felt relieved. The conversation with his father still loomed in the future, but who knew if it was even necessary? Maybe all this was a passing thing. Still, he was glad to tell his mother. She was right. They were a team.

There was a knock at the door.

"That's probably my stuff," Asahi said. "I'll get it." His mother nodded and continued cleaning up.

Asahi had asked Suga not to send Daichi or Nishinoya, and he assumed that would leave one of the other second years – maybe Ennoshita, who he knew lived nearby. But when he opened the door he was startled to see Kageyama glowering on the doorstep, holding his schoolbag in one hand and gym bag in the other.

"Kageyama! I didn't know you lived around here!" he said without thinking, realizing a moment later that it was probably not the most polite way to start a conversation.

"I don't," Kageyama said. He looked Asahi up and down in such a way that made Asahi feel like a melon at the supermarket. "Are you alright, then?"

"Ah, more or less." Asahi scratched at his forehead self-consciously. "Sorry for worrying everyone."

"You shouldn't miss practice, Azumane-san," Kageyama said. "I still haven't learned to toss to you properly." He held out the bags, and Asahi took them.

"Sorry," Asahi repeated. There was an awkward beat of silence, and then he asked, "If you don't live around here, why did Suga –"

Kageyama cut in, "I volunteered." And then his demeanor altered slightly; his face became a little more unsure, his eyes turned to the side. "I wanted to... talk to you."

"Okay," Asahi said. "About what?"

Kageyama coughed lightly, surreptiously glancing around Asahi into the house. "Would you mind coming outside?"

Asahi's eyebrows jumped up his forehead, but he gave Kageyama a small smile all the same. "Sure." He set the bags down and went out onto the doorstep as Kageyama stepped backward to accomodate him. He closed the door behind him. "What's up?"

"I know why you left practice," Kageyama said quickly.

Asahi froze in place, the smile dropping instantaneously. "Do you?" he started carefully.

"Yes."

"And why –"

"It's because you're in love with Nishinoya-san."

Asahi choked on his own throat. He coughed violently, his face on fire, his back already drenched in sweat. "In _love_ ," he echoed, "I don't think – I don't know – why would you think that – don't be ri – Kageyama, you don't think –" He tried to start the sentence at least three more times and never managed it. _Love_. He hadn't even thought about love. What was Kageyama talking about? And what even did he know, as young as he was?

"Azumane-san," Kageyama said, cutting across his waffling babble, "it's obvious from the way you look at him. I see everything on the court." He pinked suddenly, as though he realized he was not addressing the situation in a terribly well-mannered way. "It's fine, though," he said quickly. "As long as you can still play, it's fine."

Asahi could feel a hard knot of anxiety tying his stomach together with his spine. He swallowed hard. His dinner threatened to come back up. He felt desperately that all he wanted to do was go back inside the house, crawl into his bed, and stay there for the next century. Telling his mom was one thing. _This_ , though... "Kageyama," he said darkly, "why do you – what are you doing here?"

"I'm here because... I'm here because I wanted to say..." Kageyama's blush deepened. He had always looked so collected, more mature than his years would imply, but suddenly he looked so much younger. So much smaller. "I wanted to say that I understand how you feel," he mumbled.

Asahi stilled. "Then you... about Nishinoya –"

"Not about Nishinoya-san!" Kageyama snapped, "Don't be ridiculous!" He was still blushing, but he was regaining some of his usual ire. "Look, I just want to say I get it, alright?" He settled a bit. His face was somewhat pained. "For my part, I'm not ready." He clasped his hands in front of his body nervously – a young habit that showed his age. "I know that I'm not the person I should be yet. And until I get there, I won't be ready." A long pause. "So, Azumane-san, just..." Kageyama exhaled hard from his nose. "Remember, you don't have to do anything about it. Unless you want to. Unless you're ready."

Asahi stared at him. It was as though a stranger stood on his front steps. In many ways, Kageyama _was_ still a stranger to him, but this – this was something else entirely. He felt his heart soften. Underneath all that, the boy was so kind after all. Asahi reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks," he said. "I'll keep that in mind."

Kageyama nodded awkwardly. "Alright then. Well." He stood up straight again and started looking more like himself. "Thats all I wanted to say. See you tomorrow, Azumane-san." He bowed slightly, just a little bend of the head, and then turned to leave.

"Thanks for my stuff," Asahi said to him. He turned to go back into the house, then stopped abruptly with his hand on the door. "Oh, Kageyama!" he called.

Kageyama turned from the road.

"For what it's worth," Asahi said, "I think Hinata probably thinks you're great already. But maybe it is best to wait, for both your sakes."

The light was starting to fade, but there was still enough to see the look of shock on Kageyama's face. Asahi would remember it for a long time after, and he would smile to himself. He went back inside the house.

His mother stood in the foyer, frowning heavily. "Asahi," she said sharply, "he is much too young!"

Asahi startled like a deer. "That's not him!" he yelped.

~

When his homework was done and his mom was knitting on the couch in front of the tv, Asahi said his goodnights and plodded up the stairs to his room. It wasn't all that late, but he was exhausted. When he reached the foot of his bed he flopped facedown onto it still wearing his jeans.

All in all, it could be worse. Yes, there was the disturbing revelation that he was apparently harboring a pretty heavy crush on his teammate. His younger, much smaller teammate, who he outweighed by nearly half. And yes, earlier in the day, he had practically _stroked_ Nishinoya's neck, and then run away immediately after – and that would be difficult to explain tomorrow. Asahi groaned and covered the part of his face not mushed into the bed. But Suga hadn't been mad, and Nishinoya had apparently not made a big deal about it – and his mom was okay, and then Kageyama...

Kageyama.

Kageyama had said he was in love with Nishinoya. In love? It seemed like such a ridiculous concept. It was true that they had a certain connection on the court. Asahi would've had to have been excessively thick not to feel it. There was all that proclaiming on Nishinoya's end about being his lifeline, and well... It wasn't a bad feeling, really. But _love_?

"Asahi," his mother said from his doorway. "Change your clothes."

"Yes, m'am," he said.

~

When morning came, Asahi felt a lot better. Kageyama was right of course – about the waiting thing, not about the... other thing. The point was, he didn't have to do anything right now. Eveything would be fine, and now that he knew what he was up against, well. It would be easier to see, easier to control. He felt positively springyas he walked to school.

The funny thing was: it kind of _worked_. Class went better, since every time his mind turned to Nishinoya – a truly embarrassing frequency, now that Asahi was paying attention – he could reign it in, remind himself that this was him waiting, that he was taking Kageyama's advice. That he was not going to pay attention to the translucent shell of Nishinoya's ears, the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he took a drink, the pale line of his taut abdomen exposed when he stretched his arms above his head.

Focus. Focus. He bit the inside of his cheek. Surely it would get easier with time, right? Practice. That's what it would take. Practice.

Oh, right. Practice. Anxiety licked anew in Asahi's stomach. He had no idea how he was going to handle today's practice. At least maybe he'd be able to keep his hands off Nishinoya's body, that would be progress.

Oh. Well. That was the wrong thing to think. Asahi clenched his calf muscles as tightly as he could. After a moment, the screaming ache managed to pull him back together. He mentally sighed. It would get easier, he promised himself. He would learn to ignore it.

~

School ended sooner than he expected. He'd spent the whole day attempting to come up with a plan for how to handle himself – what to say, how to behave, how to answer any questions about his absence – but all day the proper strategy had eluded him. Now he found himself once again on the walkway leading to the gym, terrified of moving forward but unwilling to turn away.

"Well, well, well," drawled Tanaka behind him. "So the Prodigal Son returns. Again."

Asahi stiffened. If Tanaka was there, then... He closed his eyes, mentally took a breath, and then slowly turned around.

Nishinoya was there too. They stood together a little ways toward the doors, with Tanaka leaning on his shoulder. Nishinoya faced him dead on, his glare every bit as intense as usual. He wasn't smiling. Asahi shrank a little inside. In love. Kageyama's words echoed inside him. _You're in love with Nishinoya-san_. It couldn't be possible, right?

Tanaka pushed off of Nishinoya's shoulder and walked toward him. "Better get inside soon, ace," he said, "or I'll get that title from you." He passed Asahi and whacked him hard enough on the back that he exhaled automatically. Asahi hadn't realized until that moment that he had been holding his breath.

It was just Nishinoya and him on the walkway. Asahi stumbled for a word, tried to start a sentence twice, looked everywhere but in front of him.

"So," Nishinoya said, "are you gonna be an asshole today?"

Asahi felt his cheeks heating. He put his hand to the back of his neck. "I – I'm –"

"You can't miss practice anymore. That's non-negotiable."

Asahi paused, staring at the paved walk. Nishinoya was angry about him missing practice? Not about...? He slowly looked up, caught Nishinoya's eye again. There was a softening to the corner of Nishinoya's mouth. "Right," Asahi agreed when he found his voice, "it won't happen again."

Nishinoya nodded once. "Well, alright then, let's go." He stalked toward Asahi, who shrank back involuntarily. But Nishinoya only grabbed his elbow tightly and dragged him toward the gym.

Asahi fumbled on the steps, trying to remove his shoes with one hand while Nishinoya pulled him up by his other arm. "Hang on, Nishinoya, " he whined plaintively – "Come _on_ ," was the only response he got in return – and he ended up tripping over the threshold with one foot in the air and the other underneath him. His arm slipped in Nishinoya's grasp until only their hands were clasped together.

"It's alright, everyone!" Nishinoya bellowed. He lifted Asahi's hand upward, pulling him up to one knee. "Here he is! Blossoming like a delicate flower, flushed as a newlywed maiden, ready to accept your ridicule!"

Tanaka was laughing. Tsukishima only looked on with a bored expression, and Yamaguchi was behind him blinking at the scene. The second years were giggling, but Ennoshita just rolled his eyes and shoved them. Suga and Daichi were grinning, but at least Suga had the politeness to do so behind his hand. Hinata looked mild and dumbfounded as always, and Kageyama simply regarded him with crossed arms and a direct glare.

"Nishinoya, what –" Asahi looked aside to him, bewildered.

"You were worried everyone was gonna be looking at you, right?" Nishinoya gave him a pointed look. "Well, they looked at you." He grinned defiantly. His hand was warm in Asahi's, lithe fingers tight against his own. "Now, come on." He released Asahi's hand and punched him hard in the shoulder, then trotted into the gym.

Asahi watched him go. The back of his shirt said, 'Redoubled Courage'. Asahi's knees started to ache against the hardwood, so he stood up. He rubbed the new sore spot on his shoulder. Asahi smiled. It was his first real smile since the previous afternoon. He could do this.

The rest of practice went well. His body knew the motions even if his mind slipped a bit – and if he caught himself looking at the flex of Nishinoya's calves or the pull of his shoulders underneath his shirt, well – Asahi was working on it. He could pull himself back, pay more attention to his form when he jumped, to the feel of the ball in that split second he held it in his hand before sending it careening toward the floor.

"Damn, Asahi-san!" Tanaka exclaimed after a particularly solid hit.

"Nice one!" Suga added.

He chuckled nervously, pleased with the praise. Yes, he could do this. He allowed himself a spare glance at Kageyama, who was practicing receives in a triangle with Nishinoya and Hinata, and Asahi wondered to himself how he kept it so locked down. Hell, Asahi _knew_ , and he still couldn't see it, except for maybe the occasional unnecessary sidelong glance. He wondered how it would be for them in a couple years, when they would be the ones facing graduation instead of him.

Nishinoya caught his eye from across the court and Asahi looked away quickly. He swallowed hard and turned back to the net.

~

After practice, when they began breaking everything down, Tanaka grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Asahi-san," he said, "let's get the mops." It was odd, because he usually he helped with the net, but Tanaka was dragging him along and Asahi found himself at the supply closet before he even had the time to form an argument in his head.

As they were gathering up the mops, Tanaka was uncharacteristically silent. After a moment he turned toward Asahi. "Asahi-san," Tanaka said, "I know you're a good guy."

"Uh, thanks?"

"But Noya-san, he's a _really_ good guy."

Asahi's grip tightened on the handles of the mops in his hands. Tanaka looked at him hard, as though daring him to deny the claim. "I know," he said quietly. "I know he is."

"He deserves better than you jerkin' him around while you figure this out."

Asahi frowned and looked at the floor. Shame slipped in between his lungs and his diaphragm. "I know," he repeated. "I'm sorry."

Tanaka held up his hands. "Don't say sorry to me. I'm just trying to look out for my boy."

"Could you –" Asahi shifted uncomfortably. "Could you tell him sorry for me? Tell him that I'm – I – well, tell him it won't happen again."

Tanaka shook his head quickly, hands still in the air. "It's not my business, he can handle himself. I'm not saying you two can't figure something out, I just want to be clear here –" Tanaka fixed him with a murderous glare. "You are not allowed to hurt him. Or. I. Will. End. You." Tanaka emphasized each word with a slice of his finger across his throat.

It had the intended horrifying effect. "Tanaka," Asahi said nervously, "I would never hurt him."

"No more stunts like this spring."

Asahi shook his head. "No, I promise. I'm on the team for good now."

"Okay." Tanaka's face brightened immediately, like the sun coming from behind a thunderhead. "Dang, Asahi-san, I thought you'd argue with me a little bit. I'm kind of disappointed!"

"Don't be disappointed about that," Asahi said weakly. Then, as his brain caught up, he added, "but what did you mean, we could 'figure something out'?"

"Oh, you know!" Tanaka was grabbing up the mops again, taking even the ones that Asahi held dumbly in front of him. "The tension out there is ridiculous. You guys really need to hash this out."

"The tension...?"

Tanaka fixed him with puzzled look. "Wasn't that what yesterday was about? I mean, you'd have to be stupid not to see it – which granted, means half the team probably didn't."

Asahi's mind stopped completely. His axis recalibrated. "But, Nishinoya doesn't..."

"Asahi-san." Tanaka looked at him, really looked at him. "Do you not know?"

"...know?" he said feebly.

"You don't, do you?" Tanaka had to take a step back. His face was filled with awe. "It never even occurred to you." He laughed so loudly and suddenly that Asahi jumped. "Oh my god, it explains so much!" Tanaka's eyes were watering. "Oh god, I take it all back, you are so dense, you are _so_ dense. I have nothing to worry about, clearly, you're only a danger to _yourself_." He laughed again, had to brace himself on the mops to stay upright.

"Tanaka," Asahi said in as dangerous a tone as he could muster.

"Asahi-san," Tanaka managed finally, wheezing, "Noya, he... he..."

"Do you two plan on helping at all?" Tsukishima snipped from the doorway, "Or are you just going to stand here in the way all evening."

"Here, here, here," Tanaka said, handing over the mops. "This is ridiculous. I'm sorry I butted in at all. I'm going to let him tell you himself." And then he followed Tsukishima out of the doorway, leaving Asahi there in a pit of nervous apprehension.

When Asahi came out of the supply closet, most of the breakdown was finished. He looked around the gym and saw that Nishinoya had already left. He was both disappointed and relieved – a conflicting mix that did not help his underlying anxiety. All his confidence from earlier in the day had evaporated entirely. Asahi took a step into the gym, then realized he absolutely did not want to talk to anyone else there. He figured that, as long as he was quiet and careful, he could slink off without notice to clean up and change before heading home, and so he did just that.

~

Asahi's house was uphill from the school. His usual route involved roads that formed a sequence of switchbacks up towards a more level area where many houses had been built. There was one stretch of road toward the lower portion that had simply been cut into the hillside, for whatever reason that the original surveyors had determined to be appropriate.

This road was framed on either side by concrete barriers, each a meter and a half tall, holding back the earth. Grass peeked over the edge of the barriers at Asahi's eyeline. It was on the barrier to his left that Nishinoya sat with his legs crossed and a can of soda in his hand.

"Hey."

Nishinoya had showered, and his hair was still damp. The ends were starting to curl from the ambient humidity of the air. He hadn't styled it up in his usual way, and Asahi wondered if Nishinoya had rushed to meet him there. "Hi," he returned awkwardly.

"Headed home?"

Asahi fiddled with the strap of his bag. It was supremely unsettling to have Nishinoya looking down at him, moreso with the conversation he'd had with Tanaka earlier. "I guess so," he said.

"I thought you'd never show up," Nishinoya said. He set the can down and stood up, then stretched dramatically with his arms over his head. He had already changed into a fresh t-shirt and khaki shorts, and Asahi got a good look of his stomach before turning away abruptly. Nishinoya crouched on the barrier – giving Asahi the perfect flash of the inside of his thigh up the leg of his shorts, not that Asahi was looking, of course – and swung his legs over. Asahi noticed his biceps tensing as he levered himself over edge of the barrier before dropping to the road. His shirt said 'Things Should Be Tried'. When Nishinoya reached for his can, he caught Asahi watching him. Asahi would have looked away again, but as Nishinoya settled he fixed him with a slow, sly sort of smile that rooted Asahi to the spot.

"You know, Asahi-san," Nishinoya said, "I really think you should come home with me instead."

Asahi felt a pull from somewhere behind his navel, like a string had been tied at the based of his spine and Nishinoya held the other end of it. His heart hammered in his chest. Had he been wrong the whole time? Asahi nodded wordlessly. Nishinoya beckoned over his shoulder, still smiling, and Asahi could only follow.

They walked in silence. Asahi's stomach did flip-flops all the way to Nishinoya's house. _You're in love with Nishinoya-san_ , Kageyama had said. _It never even occurred to you,_ Tanaka had said. The words banged around inside his head like a thunderstorm. Nishinoya lived even closer to the school than he did, and it was not a long walk. Asahi didn't have enough time to talk himself out of this course of action, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Asahi had walked to Nishinoya's house before – they lived close enough that they had walked together on occasion – but he had never been inside. At the front door, his heart jumped up into his throat. "Is it okay that I'm here?" he blurted. "Your parents won't mind?"

Nishinoya looked at him in bemused exasperation. "They won't mind," he assured. "They aren't like that." He opened the door. "Besides, they're not here anyway."

That little piece of information somehow did not make him feel better. Nishinoya went into the house, and Asahi stepped in after him. The house was dark and quiet. "Do you come home alone often?"

"Only when Dad's salon is open late. He keeps Suzu and Taka there with him after their school lets out. He has a room there for them to do their homework."

The names weren't familiar to Asahi. "You have siblings, Nishinoya?"

"Yeah!" Nishinoya pointed at a series of pictures on the wall of the hallway leading away from the foyer. "Taka is seven and Suzume is nine." There was a little boy and girl in most of the photos. In a particular one, Nishinoya had his arms around both the children. Three identical smiles beamed out from the frame so brightly that it seemed they could illuminate the hallway.

"You're their big brother," Asahi said thoughtfully. Of course, it made perfect sense.

"I guess so!" Nishinoya laughed. He stepped further into the house. "Are you hungry? I'm always starving after practice."

Asahi put down his bag and slipped out of his shoes. "Sorry for imposing," he mumbled quietly, though no one would hear him. He followed Nishinoya, socked feet quiet on the hardwood as he passed from front hall to kitchen.

Nishinoya was already digging in the fridge. "My mom and dad are health freaks," he said apologetically, out of Asahi's line of sight. "I've got some junk food hidden away, if you'd like." He emerged from the fridge with a few apples.

"No, that's fine..." Asahi stood in the archway that led to the kitchen. He felt nervous and unwieldy, as though he were a hammer and the scene were made of glass, and any wrong movement could make the whole thing shatter around him.

Nishinoya looked at him finally and noticed his discomfort. "Asahi-san," he said, voice softening, "just come here and eat something, alright?"

He took a step into the kitchen. A narrow counter island separated the dining room from the kitchen proper, and this is where Nishinoya was standing with a knife in hand to slice the apples. There were a few tall chairs on the far side of the island, so Asahi crossed over and sat there across from Nishinoya. The height of the chair gave him a few more centimeters on Nishinoya than he already had, which really didn't help much with his anxiety about the situation.

"Asahi-san," Nishinoya said sharply, without looking up from the apple he was deftly cutting into neat slices, "you're giving me hives."

"What?"

"I can feel your embarrassment all the way over here. Stop it."

"Sorry."

Nishinoya put the knife down with a loud _clack_. "And stop staying sorry!" he demanded.

"Sor–" Asahi closed his mouth and tried to swallow the word. He failed. " _Sorry_ ," he whispered meekly.

" _Ugh_ ," Nishinoya groaned with a roll of his eyes. "You are such a limp noodle sometimes." He picked the knife back up and resumed cutting the apples. On each slice he slid the knife under the skin of the apple, separating all but about a third. Then he made a longV-shaped cut in the skin lengthways along the slice, and took out the inner portion. He set the finished slice onto a plate and shoved the removed skin into his mouth. It took Asahi a moment to realize what was happening as he watched the line of apple slices grow.

"Nishinoya, are you making apple rabbits?" He absolutely was. It was unmistakable. They were pretty good – red ears sticking up perfectly against the white flesh beneath. They sat in a neat line as though at attention.

"Yes, because you're being a bigger baby than my brother. Who, I remind you, is seven." Nishinoya finished another apple rabbit. He was very good at them. Asahi wondered how many times he made them for his little brother's lunch.

"But I–" The rest of Asahi's sentence was lost when Nishinoya abruptly stretched across the island and shoved the entire apple slice into his mouth. He blinked in surprise and chewed on instinct.

"There you go," Nishinoya said, and put the next slice in his own mouth. "Don't you feel better?" he asked around the mouthful.

Asahi covered his mouth with his hand to avoid spitting while he laughed. "Okay," he managed. "Okay."

Nishinoya made another apple rabbit. "Did you see that movie with the fast zombies?"

"What?" Asahi reached for the plate, and Nishinoya handed it over. "What movie was that?"

"It was British. It's a bit older."

"You know I don't like those kinds of movies, Nishinoya."

"Oh right, I forgot. You wimp."

They ate the rest of the apples, chatting about everything from Nishinoya's terrible taste in movies to Nishinoya's terrible taste in video games. Asahi felt easier, happier than he had been all day. It was still alright between him and Nishinoya. So that meant everything could still be fine in the end, right?

They were down to the last few slices. Asahi picked one up and peeled back the remaining skin so he could eat just the meat of the apple.

"Asahi-san," Nishinoya said, "What was that about, yesterday?"

Asahi froze with his hand halfway to his mouth, still holding the slice of apple.

"I mean," Nishinoya continued, "I've been thinking about it a lot. And if it was nothing, well, that's okay." He fiddled with the plate in front of him. "But if it was nothing, why did you run away?"

Asahi set down the apple.

"And the truth is –" Nishinoya reached across the island toward him and grabbed his hand tightly. "I like you so much, Asahi-san. I like you _so_ _much._ "

Asahi's mouth dropped open. He stared at the smaller hand clutching his own. Nishinoya was glaring at him with such intensity that he thought it might burn a hole right through his chest into the wall beyond.

"Well?" Nishinoya demanded.

Asahi exhaled slowly. Tanaka had known. Kageyama had known. Maybe everyone had known except him. "Nishinoya," he whispered, "I like you so much I can't even describe it." It felt like a shadow leaving his body; behind it was nothing but openness.

Nishinoya's face brightened. His eyebrows came up and his shoulders relaxed, and a smile spread across his face that was unrivaled by any Asahi had ever seen. "Really?" Nishinoya asked, his voice remarkably shy.

Asahi nodded hard. He curled his fingers around Nishinoya's. "Of course," he assured. "I just don't –" He felt impossibly timid, strange as it was. "I just don't understand how you could like me."

"Are you _kidding_?" Nishinoya blurted, causing Asahi to jump. "Are you kidding me right now?"

Asahi coughed awkwardly and scratched at his nose with his free hand. "It's just that," he mumbled, "I'm not brave, and I'm not smart." He pulled his hand away from Nishinoya's. Nishinoya's face fell a bit at the loss of contact. "And I don't know what I'll do with myself after graduation. The only thing I'm good at is volleyball and even that–" He glanced up with a sad smile. "Even that I'd be useless at without you." Asahi clasped his hands in front of him on the counter. "And you're – you're." He swallowed hard, mustered the courage. "You're so _bright_ and easy, and everyone really looks up to you, and you make me feel so –" Asahi struggled for the words. "– so much like someone who _could_ be brave." Nishinoya wasn't saying anything, so Asahi continued. "And... I think you're really." He felt his ears start burning. "Really hot." Asahi covered his face in his hand.

He heard Nishinoya shift and peeked through his fingers. Nishinoya stood across the island with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, face pinched angrilly. "You know," he said sharply, "I think you're right. You're not very smart."

Asahi felt his heart sink. He dropped his hand. "In fact," Nishinoya continued, his voice raising in volume, "You must be downright _stupid_ to think I'm gonna fall for that load of _garbage_."

"Huh?"

Nishinoya grabbed at his hands again, both this time. "Asahi-san!" he shouted, "you're so awesome! How can you not see that?"

"M-me? I don't –"

Nishinoya's face was practically glowing. "No, it's true! You're so strong, you're solid, the whole team depends on you. And you're _kind_ and you're hilarious, even when you don't mean to be, _especially_ when you don't mean to be! And you're just –" His hands tightened against Asahi's. The word seemed to bubble up from inside him as from a wellspring. " _Gorgeous_!" he proclaimed.

Asahi felt his shoulders raise nearly to his ears. "Me?" he said again. "You think I'm –?"

Nishinoya nodded enthusiastically. "God, Asahi-san, haven't you ever looked in a mirror? You're so tall – and your arms are just – _ugh_ – and sometimes I just stare at your legs _– and your shoulders_." Nishinoya sighed dramatically. "You have a freckle on the left one and I just want to –" He cut off abruptly. Nishinoya pinked suddenly, as though he had just realized what he was saying. "I mean, what I'm trying to say is." He looked down at his hands still wrapped around Asahi's larger ones. Tentatively Nishinoya stroked his thumb over the inside of Asahi's wrist, eliciting a embarrassingly breathy sigh from him. Asahi hunched shamefully at the noise that had escaped him, but Nishinoya only grinned. "You're so hot, Asahi-san," he concluded. Then as an afterthought, he added, "And you smell so _good_ all the time."

Asahi stared at him, startled. "I do?"

"You always smell so good. I can't figure it out. I mean – _so good_." Nishinoya released one of his hands to gesture widely to drive the point home. "Even when you're sweaty, and the rest of us smell like feet. You just smell..." He took a deep breath. "Augh!" he concluded. "What do you even use?"

"Oh!" Asahi said. That was very intimate, wasn't it? "I don't have cologne or anything – I just, you know, deodorant and –" He stopped, blinking. "Oh, well. The oil for my hair, maybe?"

Nishinoya looked at him as though this was the best thing he had ever heard. "Your hair?"

"Yeah, I use it after a shower." It seemed an odd thing to discuss, and Asahi felt somewhat bashful. He pulled his hands away again, and Nishinoya let him go this time. At a loss and feeling pinned down by Nishinoya's ardent stare, he stepped down out of his seat. "Here, I have it with me." Asahi stepped back toward the foyer, where he had left his bag. He usually showered after practice, and so kept a small bottle with him. "My mom got it for me," he called as he dug around in the bag. "It keeps it manageable, keeps the ends from splitting, that sort of –" When he turned back around he found Nishinoya crowding close to him in the narrow space. Asahi took a step backward without thinking about it, and his back hit the wall.

Nishinoya took the bottle from him. "It's kind of expensive," Asahi said nervously, but all Nishinoya did was put a drop on the tip of his index finger, clicked the bottle shut again, and then rubbed his fingertips together. He brought his fingers up near his face and inhaled deeply with his eyes closed.

"That's it," Nishinoya said, voice low. He opened his eyes, gazing up at Asahi. "That's what it is." He took a step forward, right into Asahi's personal space.

Asahi gulped. Nishinoya was so close he could see the gold striations in his irises. He'd have to bleach again soon – nearly a centimeter of roots were showing at the base of his scalp. He was looking at Asahi with a sort of predatory half-lidded stare that Asahi could never have imagined. Asahi could feel his heart pounding, was sure the pulse point in his neck was leaping beneath the skin. A desperate curl of arousal tightened in his gut. "D'you..." He licked his lips, watched Nishinoya's eyes follow the movement. "...like it?"

Nishinoya let all his air out in a whoosh. "God, Asahi-san," he said, "you drive me _crazy_."

That was all the warning Asahi got before Nishinoya threw his arms around Asahi's neck and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

Asahi exhaled through his nose in shock. He felt the bottle drop against his shoulder and roll off to plunk on the floor as Nishinoya moved his hands to the back of his head. Nishinoya's mouth was warm and open against his own; his tongue dove mercilessly into Asahi's yielding mouth. Asahi felt lightheaded and weak-kneed; for a moment he thought he might actually faint. He brought his hands up against Nishinoya's back, felt the hard lines of his shoulder blades shifting beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. He gripped the shirt tightly, feeling somewhat like he was hanging on for dear life while Nishinoya tugged at his hair and plundered his mouth.

Nishinoya eased down onto his heels. His fingers slipped out of Asahi's hair and his hands came down to rest on Asahi's chest. "What's wrong?" he asked as he pulled away. His voice was breathy, and his mouth was wet. Asahi couldn't stop looking at Nishinoya's glistening bottom lip.

"Sorry," Asahi murmured. He felt like kicking himself. Nishinoya was radiating heat against him. Asahi rubbed his hands experimentally over Nishinoya's back. He felt the knobbled track of his spine and traced it lightly with his index finger. Nishinoya shivered in response, eyes closing briefly. "I've never kissed anyone before," Asahi admitted quietly. "I think I'm just nervous."

Nishinoya grinned and bit his lip. "Me either," he said shyly.

"Really?"

Nishinoya shook his head. "Yeah, just you."

Asahi brought one hand up to touch to his lips. He'd kissed Nishinoya. Or at least, he'd been kissed by him. It seemed weird that they didn't feel any different.

"You wanna kiss me, though, right?" Nishinoya asked, looking momentarily apprehensive.

Asahi sighed aloud and wrapped his hands around Nishinoya's back again. "I do," he breathed. "I really do."

"Good." Nishinoya leaned in again, eyes heavy and lidded. "Because I really wanna kiss you too." He surged upward again, and this time Asahi met him halfway.

It wasn't so forceful on the second go. Asahi curled his body down over Nishinoya's, and Nishinoya reached back up into his hair again. Asahi could feel it coming loose in great hunks, but he didn't much care. It was still a bit damp from earlier, and it felt cool against his neck. Asahi ran his hands along Nishinoya's sides and Nishinoya veritably purred against his mouth. Asahi bent his knees slightly and leaned against the wall, and Nishinoya crowded up closer to him, slipping between his legs to press their chests flush together. At the contact, the low flame that simmered deep inside Asahi's stomach started to boil over. Arousal made him daring, and he reached one hand up to fist in Nishinoya's hair.

Nishinoya gasped aloud, breaking the kiss.

Asahi winced at himself. "Sorry," he mumbled, and he let go of Nishinoya's hair.

"Don't be," Nishinoya said, eyes bright. He rubbed a long line from behind Asahi's ear down his neck and the slope of his shoulder, and back up again. Against Asahi's mouth he whispered, "I wanna make you excited, Asahi-san. Don't you know how excited I get over you?"

Asahi's breath left him in a rush. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Nishinoya's. This couldn't be really happening. Nishinoya's thighs were pressing hard against the inside of his own, their bodies slotted tightly together, and now that Asahi was paying attention he became aware of the fact that he was starting to get hard. He would have been ashamed, but the intimacy of their embrace made it impossible to miss that Nishinoya seemed to be responding in kind, if the pressure just inside his hip was any indication.

He wondered briefly why he didn't just go running out the front door. The truth was – he had always been somewhat anxious about the thought being with another person. When his classmates and friends had traded stories of their various exploits, he'd sat back quietly, or excused himself from the conversation, because it elicited a nervousness beneath his diaphragm that he'd been unable to ignore. And he'd thought – he'd suspected anyway – that in this situation, he'd surely panic almost immediately.

The panic was not there. Here, with Nishinoya, it seemed obvious. It seemed easy. He _was_ excited. He wanted to touch Nishinoya all over, to trace all the places he had noticed, to see more than he had found with little peeks and sidelong glances. When Asahi opened his eyes, he could see the divot at the base of Nishinoya's throat peeking from beneath the collar of his t-shirt. Asahi wanted to kiss him there, and lower. He wanted to kiss him everywhere.

"I _am_ ," he murmured, "I am excited."

"I _know_ ," Nishinoya returned with barely contained delight. He pressed up against Asahi once more, and latched his lips to a spot on Asahi's neck just below his jaw.

Asahi's head fell back against the wall, and a shaky moan escaped him. He cradled the back of Nishinoya's head in one hand and palmed his narrow shoulder with the other while Nishinoya devoured the length of his throat. The sensation was not unlike a tickle and yet somehow _very_ unlike one; it made him shiver uncontrollably and sent tremors down his spine that went straight to his groin. Oh, he was definitely hard now. This was almost embarrassing.

Asahi shifted against the wall to ease the pressure on his trembling legs – and then Nishinoya gasped hotly against his neck and bucked his hips. Then Nishinoya was still against him for a long moment, breathing heavily against Asahi's shoulder. "Sorry," Nishinoya said, "You just –" He shook his head. "You moved and I..."

"No," Asahi breathed, "it's okay." He had clamped his hands down on Nishinoya's hips, not so much to hold him back as to keep himself from moving uncontrollably. His thumbs slipped up under the hem of Nishinoya's shirt to touch the heated skin there. Asahi felt one pointed hipbone under the pad of his thumb and shuddered. He buried his hot face against Nishinoya's clean-smelling hair. "Maybe we should get away from the door," he mumbled finally. Their close quarters didn't leave much room for retreat, and he could only imagine what they would look like to anyone who came in, tangled and flushed as they were, his hair half-down in disarray and Nishinoya between his legs.

Nishinoya chuckled against his shoulder. "No one's gonna be home for awhile," he assured, "but you do have a point." He leaned away, and Asahi resisted the impulse to lean with him. Nishinoya looked at him with a long, careful expression. He reached up with both hands to touch Asahi's face. "Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

Asahi leaned forward to kiss him again, and Nishinoya's hands slipped around to the back of his head. "No," Asahi said when they came apart again. Nishinoya smiled at him, showing both rows of shiny white teeth. He pulled away entirely, and the loss of heat made Asahi feel suddenly nervous, but Nishinoya's hand slipped down his arm to link with his own, and that was better.

"C'mon," Nishinoya said with a tug at his hand. He pulled Asahi through the house.

It seemed bewildering to Asahi. Twenty-four hours ago he was wrestling with the realization that his obsession with Nishinoya's body was bordering on the obscene, and now here he was, being led by the hand into Nishinoya's room. It looked about how Asahi expected it to – from the anime posters on the wall to the scattered sprawl of t-shirts and magazines across the floor. Nishinoya didn't even bother to close the door before he dragged Asahi up against him again, practically climbing him in an attempt to get to his mouth as quickly as possible. Asahi stumbled against him and then wrapped his arms around Nishinoya's back – slid one hand up into Nishinoya's hair and the other up the back of his shirt – and later he would be amazed at his own brazenness, but for now, he thought he might burst if he didn't keep going. Nishinoya gave a startled laugh against his mouth, a hot puff of air that Asahi swallowed up before delving his tongue between Nishinoya's parted lips.

Nishinoya wrestled with him like that for a moment, tugging at his hair and laughing against his mouth, and then he pulled against Asahi's shoulders, tugging him down and forward, and then his axis titled and they fell down together with a _whoomph_ onto Nishinoya's bed, and Asahi officially couldn't believe this was happening. He propped himself up on his hands and stared down at Nishinoya beneath him, his face flushed and pupils dialated. His hair was splayed around his head, the ridiculous bleached streak sticking to his damp forehead. He looked at Asahi with all the dark happiness of a contented cat. "Asahi-san," Nishinoya said softly, "it's alright." He reached up and placed a palm flat against Asahi's chest, slightly to the left, right above his furiously pounding heart. "I know this is made of glass." He curled his fingers into Asahi's shirt. His other hand cupped Asahi's cheek, held Asahi in place so Nishinoya could look him in eye. "Don't worry. I'm your libero. I'm not gonna let it fall."

Asahi swallowed against the lump that had formed his throat. He nodded quickly, and kissed Nishinoya again. Nishinoya's legs came up around his hips, and when Asahi settled against him they both groaned aloud at the friction. Asahi couldn't help it. He braced on one elbow beside Nishinoya's shoulder and wrapped his other hand around Nishinoya's hip, and pressed him down into the bed.

Nishinoya tilted his head back with a long, shuddery sigh, and Asahi took that opportunity to kiss at his throat, the pulse point beneath his jaw, the long tendon along the side of his neck. Nishinoya gave a thready moan. He hooked one leg behind Asahi's thigh and shifted jerkily against him. He reached underneath Asahi's shirt and grabbed desperately at Asahi's back, trying to pull him even closer than they already were.

It really seemed like they were wearing entirely too many clothes. The same thought seemed to occur to Nishinoya, because he started wriggling underneath Asahi's bulk – and that was really, _really_ distracting – and grabbed the tail of Asahi's shirt in both hands and began to pull it up Asahi's back. Asahi reared up enough that the shirt came free from between them, and then Nishinoya was tugging it over his head. It got caught on his hair, and Nishinoya was laughing again, and Asahi couldn't help but laugh too – he reached behind his head and grabbed the collar, eased it over what remained of his bun, and tossed the shirt aside.

Nishinoya sat up enough that Asahi was able to extricate his shirt from between his back and his bed, and they bonked foreheads clumsily as the shirt came off. Nishinoya giggled and dug his hands into Asahi's hair, finally extracting the tie that was barely holding it all together. With his forefinger and thumb he shot it across the room. Asahi heard it snap against the far wall. "Hey," he admonished mildly, "I need that."

"Not right now you don't," Nishinoya insisted, and his hands went next for Asahi's belt. Two could play at that game, Asahi decided. Except Nishinoya wasn't wearing a belt, so he fumbled instead for the button on his shorts. Nishinoya's hands were more deft than his, and he'd already gotten Asahi's pants down around his hips when Asahi finally got the button undone, so Nishinoya took over and undid the zipper himself, and scooted his shorts down his thighs. He was wearing boxer briefs, Asahi noted, and they were doing an amazing job of highlighting the truly impressive hard-on straining upward from the apex of Nishinoya's thighs.

"Oh god, Asahi, I can't stand it," Nishinoya whined, and he grabbed Asahi's ass in both hands and pulled his body forward. Asahi gave a shocked gasp as their erections met between them, separated only by the thin cotton of their underwear. Nishinoya groaned aloud and bucked against him, and for a time it was all either of them could do to moan and rock together – Asahi braced on his elbows with his hands cupping Nishinoya's head, and Nishinoya still gripping his ass, his legs tangled around both of Asahi's thighs.

"The top drawer, the top drawer," Nishinoya was moaning, and it took Asahi's addled mind a moment to catch up, until he reached over and dug around in the nightstand for the bottle of lotion – Nishinoya reached between them to push his underwear down and then grabbed at Asahi's – Asahi took in the ruddy head of his cock and the black thatch of hair at its base, and then Nishinoya was gripping Asahi's erection in his warm little hand and Asahi wanted to shout, had to bite his lip to keep quiet. Nishinoya grabbed the lotion from him with his free hand and poured a generous amount all over Asahi's cock. He began to stroke unevenly before Asahi propped himself up on one hand to take over – and his hand was large enough to grip both of them together, and that suddenly seemed like the most amazing course of action he'd ever invented – so he got a knee beneath him on the bed and did just that. Nishinoya writhed and wailed underneath him; he surged upward to grab at Asahi's shoulders and kissed him with such ferocity that their teeth clacked together. He moaned wantonly into Asahi's mouth and Asahi did his best to kiss him back – his supporting arm was starting to shake and his thighs burned, but it was so impossibly good – better than he ever could have possibly imagined.

Part of him wanted it to go on forever, but another part felt all jangled loose and strained at the overwhelming sensation as he held Nishinoya's cock against his own and pumped into his fist – and all too soon he could feel that familiar pressure building. "Nishinoya," he panted, "I'm–"

"Yeah, Asahi, yeah," Nishinoya breathed, and that was all it took. With a soft gasp, Asahi began to come. The first shot of it went halfway up Nishinoya's stomach, each subsequent pulse adding to the obscenity that lay between them. When it had passed Asahi looked down and thought to himself it was the dirtiest thing he had ever seen, at least until Nishinoya reached down and finished himself off with a few quick strokes. Nishinoya was surprisingly quiet as he came – all that escaped him was a shuddering sigh and a throaty intake of air.

Asahi's arm was about to give out so he flopped over onto his back next to Nishinoya and stared at the ceiling. He felt like an old shirt that had been washed and rung out – and as the post-orgasmic haze began to lift from his mind, he felt oddly shy. He listened to Nishinoya's breathing evening out beside him and wondered for a moment how badly it might come across if he just got up and walked out of the room. Not that his legs would be able to support him in that action, jellied and trembling as they were. He realized his underwear was still half-off. He eased his thumb under the waistband and pulled them up. He'd clean up properly later – right now, it felt more important to cover himself.

Nishinoya finally spoke beside him. "Wow. How long has that been kicking around?"

Asahi reached up to cover his face with his clean hand. "I don't _know_ ," he blurted, his voice catching on the last word in such a way that sounded suspiciously like a sob. His eyes felt hot, and his throat was tight. How was it that he could be _crying_ after that?

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Nishinoya said quickly. He rolled over and half-covered Asahi's body; Asahi felt him thread the fingers of his left hand into Asahi's hair. "Hey, it's okay, big guy."

Asahi gave a great sniff and scrubbed at his face. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, when his voice was back under control. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Nishinoya laughed at him, but not in a bad way. It was such a calming, affectionate sound that Asahi couldn't help but relax a bit. "Nothing's wrong with you. You're just a big, dumb weenie," he explained. "But I still like you." He kissed Asahi at the corner of his mouth, leaving a hint of moisture. Nishinoya rolled off Asahi and reached for his discarded t-shirt.

Asahi watched him clean himself off out of the corner of his eye. As Nishinoya tucked himself back into his underwear and readjusted his shorts, he caught Asahi's eye and Asahi looked away abrubtly. "C'mon, Asahi-san," he said in a bemused tone, and Asahi looked back at him again. He was grinning. Nishinoya stepped back to him and grabbed the wrist of Asahi's right hand, then used his t-shirt to wipe it off. The gesture was incredibly intimate – somehow even moreso than what had just happened between them. "You can look," Nishinoya assured him gently as he cleaned between Asahi's fingers. "I wantyou to look."

So Asahi did. It was easier now that the edge of arousal was off. Nishinoya was small but well-built, with lean arms and a defined stomach. Dusky nipples peeked from his bare chest. Asahi noticed again the indentation at the base of his throat, the smoothness of the lines of his neck leading outward from it. His clavicles split off right and left to his shoulders on either side. Everything was lovely and pale.

Nishinoya dropped the shirt on the floor and posed suggestively. He made a pouting, cartoonishly seductive face. "Do you like what you see?"

Asahi snorted. He grabbed Nishinoya and hauled him down onto his chest. Nishinoya went without resistance, and he immediately buried his hands again into Asahi's hair. "You like my hair, huh?" Asahi asked.

Nishinoya was still grinning. "Is it obvious?" His face was close to Asahi's, his lips soft and welcoming, and it seemed like the easiest thing in the word for Asahi to put a hand on the back of his neck and kiss him. They kissed for a long time, open-mouthed and without urgency.

Asahi didn't know how long they stayed curled together in Nishinoya's bed, only realized at one point he was dozing slightly while Nishinoya played absently with his light smattering of chest hair. "Hey," he mumbled.

"Hey, yourself," Nishinoya returned lazily.

"What time is it?"

Nishinoya leaned over him with a yawn and looked at his alarm clock. "Shit, nearly eight. The kids will be home soon. Mom usually gets back around nine, too."

Asahi made a thoughtful noise. He was glad they'd had the snack earlier, since he'd put off dinner so late. "Oh _crap_ ," he yelped, sitting up straight and dumping Nishinoya unceremoniously to the side. "I forgot to call my mom!"

"Your mom," Nishinoya echoed irritably. "Why didn't you send her a message when we were walking here?"

"I don't _know_!" Asahi stood up and fastened his pants, hoping they weren't disheveled beyond repair. He spied his shirt on the floor and grabbed it. "I was a little distracted, you know, with you just _propositioning_ me in the street!"

"Prop–" Nishinoya sat up, indignant. "I didn't proposition you!"

"You're the one who invited me over!" Asahi pulled his hair away from his face and looked all over for his hair-tie. It had disappeared somewhere in the mess of Nishinoya's room. He suspected he would probably never see it again.

"Oh, right, because 'come over to my house' is like, secret code for: Let's Touch Dicks. What kind of TV have you been watching?"

Asahi stopped. He remembered vaguely his plan to wait. To hold back. What had happened to that plan? "You're right," he said. "You're right. Oh _god._ " He was stuck in place in the middle of Nishinoya's room, holding his hair back with one hand and his t-shirt in the other. "I just – I –"

"Asahi-san."

He turned slowly in place, back toward the bed. Nishinoya sat cross-legged with one elbow on a knee and his chin propped on his knuckles. "Asahi-san," he said again, "you didn't do anything wrong." His eyebrows came down into an uncharacteristically pensive expression. "You didn't take advantage of me. Is that what you're worried about?"

He looked at his feet briefly before meeting Nishinoya's eyes again. "But, I'm older than you. I'm bigger than you."

"Asahi-san, you're nine months older than me. And I gotta be honest with you, I don't think its a very formative nine months." The corner of Nishinoya's mouth came up again, and the corners of his eyes began to crinkle. "I admit, I didn't plan on this when I asked you over, but I – when you said you liked me too, I –" Nishinoya fiddled with his bedspread. "I don't know. I couldn't help myself." For the first time in the evening he looked unsure of himself, and it was at that moment that Asahi realized everything was going to be okay. "I've just liked you for so long. I can't stop looking at you. And after yesterday I finally felt like maybe you might like me back." He looked up at Asahi shyly.

Asahi was so angry with himself. Was he really being this ridiculous? He was standing in Nishinoya's room, Nishinoya had invited him in there, Nishinoya had wanted him. Maybe if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not looking at Nishinoya, he would have noticed Nishinoya looking right back at him. Relief hit him like a freight train. It was alright. It was really alright. "Nishinoya," he said in amazement, "I think I love you."

That shocked Nishinoya, really shocked him. It shocked Asahi a little bit too, but it had come on him so slowly – he realized it was true. Nishinoya was staring at him, his mouth agape, stunned into silence. A full blush began creeping from the middle of his chest up his neck to his face. "You... what."

"I love you," he said again, a little firmer. It still felt strange to say it aloud, especially from the middle of the room with his hair a mess around his shoulders and his shirt still in his hand.

Nishinoya covered his mouth with his hand. The blush spread to his forehead and his ears. "I love you," he returned finally, his voice awed. "I love you too."

Asahi was across the room again before he even registered that he was moving. He leaned onto the bed with an arm on either side of Nishinoya and crowded in close. Nishinoya's arms went around his neck without hesitation.

"Do you really?" Nishinoya asked against his lips.

"I do."

"You do not."

Asahi laughed. "I do!"

"I do too," Nishinoya said, and Asahi silenced him after that for a short while.

It was only after Nishinoya's hand slipped down his chest that Asahi broke away and grabbed that hand before it headed lower. With a grimace he said, "I really have to go, though." Asahi rested his forehead against Nishinoya's. "Even if I want to stay."

"Alright," Nishinoya whined. He flopped back on the bed and stretched his arms over his head, and Asahi couldn't help but follow the length of Nishinoya's body with his eyes.. "I'll just lay here pathetically and moon over you." Nishinoya flexed visibly and sighed aloud – and his shorts were riding down a bit, showing off the spare trail of fine hair that led down from his navel.

"Stop. Stop!" Asahi laughed. "I have to go."

"Fine, fine." Nishinoya sat up and kissed him on the chin. "It's gonna be okay, though, right? When you walk out of here?" He gave Asahi a very pointed look.

Asahi nodded. "Yes, it will be okay."

"You're not gonna freak out on me again."

"No, I won't," he promised.

After they had dressed – Nishinoya pulled out a new shirt, one that said 'Without Peer' – Asahi stood back and brushed his hair away from his face. "I don't suppose you have anything that I can use to tie my hair back?"

"Sure, Asahi-san, I got you covered." Nishinoya went out of the room, and Asahi followed. He went across the hall into a small bathroom and emerged a moment later, a sparkly pink tie with heart-shaped baubles in hand. "It's one of Suzu's." The look Asahi gave him made Nishinoya double over in laughter. "Oh, just take it, you big baby."

Asahi followed Nishinoya back out into the main part of the house. The few remaining apple rabbits were still sitting out on the counter, browned and forgotten. Less than an hour had passed from when they sat at the island together, and yet it seemed much longer with what had happened between them. "Hey, Nishinoya," he started shyly.

"What?" Nishinoya was stepping toward the foyer.

Asahi went with him. He stood there a moment, looking at his bag and shoes, and noticed for the first time all the shoes of Nishinoya's family piled haphazardly together. "Would you want to... do this again?"

Nishinoya's head whipped around to him. "You're kidding, right?"

Asahi chuckled nervously. "Yeah."

Nishinoya shook his head. "Asahi-san." His face was the picture of astonishment. "I'm not gonna be able to stop now."

"Yeah," Asahi said again, his cheeks heating. "Me either, I think." Already he was thinking about how Nishinoya had looked splayed out beneath him with a flush high on his cheekbones, about how much he'd like to get his pants off all the way the next time.

"Alright," Nishinoya agreed, and he held out one hand with only his pinky finger extended. Asahi blinked at the gesture briefly before extending his own hand. It was childish, and it felt perfect in that moment. Above their linked pinkies Nishinoya was grinning at him with a manic sort of joy. "Alright," he said again.

"Alright," Asahi echoed. He realized he was probably smiling the same way.

After Asahi put on his shoes and Nishinoya walked him outside the house, they stood together for a moment just inside the front gate. "Well," Asahi said, "I should go."

"Okay." Nishinoya fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. "But c'mere first."

Asahi gave a quick glance around them. The fence wasn't high enough to cover them, but the lane was dark and no one was outside, so he bent his knees slightly and let Nishinoya kiss him.

"How about I walk you to school tomorrow?" Nishinoya suggested when they came apart.

"Nishinoya," Asahi said, "why are you the one walking me?"

"I don't know. I don't know how this works."

Asahi shook his head. "How about we just walk each other?"

Even in the dark he could see Nishinoya's grin. "Okay."

Asahi stepped back, reached for the latch on the gate. "Um," he said, "Goodnight."

Nishinoya socked him in the stomach. "Night, Asahi-san!" He turned around and bounded into the house. Asahi stood there with the gate half open, breathless from more than the punch.

On the walk home, his exhaustion began to creep up on him. The stress of the day before combined with the excitement of the evening had left him feeling drained entirely. Yet the emptiness that was left behind inside him was not frightening. On the contrary, he felt relieved and – and open, that was the word for it, he felt _open,_ and clear, like a vessel waiting to be filled.

His mother wasn't terribly angry – the extent of her scolding was to make him promise to clean the house on Sunday and then help her in the garden. Not a bad punishment, considering he'd planned to do it anyway. His dinner was in the microwave. He changed ahead into pajamas and ate it on the couch, sitting beside her while she worked on his new sweater and watched her trashy stories.

The show was a romance, and when two characters kissed Asahi felt the vacant space inside him filling up with a sensation like drinking tea – warm and astringent. Clean and refreshing. He felt himself pinking pleasantly, for once content with the feelings swimming around his ribcage.

He nearly fell asleep on the couch, but his mother poked at him with her socked feet until Asahi managed to summon the energy to peel himself upward. He used the momentum of the movement to drag himself up the stairs. He had homework still, but it could wait. Everything could wait. Asahi climbed into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Scenes from the day replayed themselves in his brain over and over – Nishinoya dragging him into the gym, their warm hands linked together – Nishinoya's crossed legs on the barrier above the road – his socked ankles and the fine hair on his calves – the smell of Nishinoya's house, the bright taste of the apple, the way his eyes had looked when Asahi kissed him, when Asahi touched him, when Asahi – oh how would he look the next time? How would his face move, would his eyes flutter shut, would his mouth open in a perfect little 'o' of pleasure, the way it had earlier? Asahi walked the line between sleep and wakefulness for a long while, both remembering what had happened and dreaming about what would come.

~

In the morning, when Asahi woke up, part of him wondered if the previous evening had been a dream. It seemed unreal to him, and yet – the memory of Nishinoya's scent and the feel of his skin was incredibly vivid. So much so that Asahi took about five minutes longer in the shower than was really necessary.

Later, as he blearily munched toast at the table, there was a knock at the door. His mother answered, so he didn't think much of it, until she came into the dining room with a curious look on her face. "Asahi," she said carefully, "there is a boy here for you."

Nishinoya popped around her in the doorway, and Asahi nearly choked to death on his breakfast. "Morning, Asahi-san!"

Asahi managed to swallow and took a long drink to help. "Nishinoya!" he gasped finally. "What're you–"

"I said I would walk you, didn't I?" He was wearing his volleyball club jacket over a t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. "We better go or we'll be late for morning practice."

Asahi's mom was scrutinizing Nishinoya's jacket carefully. She looked back at Asahi after a long moment, her face painted with all the dark, terrible magic that only a mother could conjure. Asahi gulped.

"O-okay." He picked up his dishes and took them to the sink. Asahi could feel the heavy weight of his mother's gaze zeroing in on the spot between his shoulder blades. He hunched reflexively. "Let me get my stuff."

His mother politely spoke with Nishinoya while he gathered up his school things. What grade was he in? Where did he live? What did his parents do? How did he like the team? Nishinoya was quiet and respectful in all his responses – second year, not far, lawyer and hairdresser, no his _mom_ was the lawyer, the team was _awesome_ – and still Asahi felt every word of it settling on his shoulders like a brick of lead. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Asahi grabbed his lunch last. "Alright, let's go." He sidestepped Nishinoya and his mother on his way to the front door.

"It was nice to meet you, Nishinoya-kun," Asahi's mom said sweetly as they slipped into their shoes. "I hope you'll come by more often."

Nishinoya beamed at her. "I will! Thank you!"

Asahi tried to hide his blush behind his hunched shoulders. "Asahi, dear," his mother said, "I expect you to come right home after practice today." He chanced a look at her. As Nishinoya turned toward the door, she dropped the kindly gaze and looked at Asahi with the controlled force of a waking volcano. "Right. Home." Her brown eyes flashed at him.

"Yes, m'am," he said meekly.

"C'mon, Asahi-san," Nishinoya said with a tug on his sleeve. He bowed to Asahi's mom and then pulled Asahi toward the door.

"I'm going," Asahi said.

"Be safe," his mom returned.

Outside the house, Nishinoya let go of his sleeve and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Asahi mimicked the action, at a loss for what else to do. They walked out to the lane and turned in the direction of the school in silence. It was still early enough that most of the town was quiet. Apart from a few older neighbors tending their gardens, the road was still.

Nishinoya broke the quiet. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. "I thought you'd be happy to see me." Asahi blinked and looked at him carefully, and he saw for the first time that Nishinoya's feelings were hurt.

"I am happy," he said, "I'm always happy to see you." Nishinoya brightened a little at that. "I just... I didn't expect you to come to my house."

"Yeah, uh..." Nishinoya grinned apologetically and put a hand on the back of his head. "Maybe I got a little overexcited to see you."

The admission opened a warm spot inside Asahi's chest, and he felt his ears heat in pleased response. He let himself walk a little closer to Nishinoya so that their arms brushed together. "The thing is, I kind of told my mom about you," Asahi said.

Nishinoya stopped walking. "You what."

Asahi had passed him a few more steps before noticing. He turned back and elaborated, "I mean, not about you specifically, I just said there was someone on the team!" He rubbed at his forehead nervously. "She probably knows now, though."

Nishinoya looked at him as though he had never seen him before. He gave a low whistle. "Damn, Asahi-san, even I'm not that brave." He shook his head, his eyes wide. "I only told Ryuu, and that was just because he sat on me for an hour."

Asahi couldn't help but smile at that mental image. "Tanaka did give me a bit of a dressing down yesterday. I guess it makes sense now."

"That little..." Nishinoya exhaled sharply through his nose and pounded a fist into his other hand. "I'm going to give him a black eye."

Asahi shook his head. "No, I'm glad he did." He looked at his feet shyly, then back at Nishinoya. "I wouldn't have believed it otherwise – that you could like me."

"I don't just like you," Nishinoya said sternly, "I love you."

Asahi let out a long breath. "You might have to tell me a lot," he admitted. 

"I will."

"I don't know that I'll always believe you."

"I'll make you."

Asahi realized he had stepped toward Nishinoya on the street. They were close enough together now that he could feel the warmth of Nishinoya's body. Asahi reached up and put his hand lightly on the side of Nishinoya's neck, his thumb beneath Nishinoya's chin. He bent at the knees, and Nishinoya rocked up onto his toes to meet him. At the last moment Asahi saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced up over Nishinoya's head. Daichi stood a little ways down the lane, staring at them in abject shock.

Asahi bolted upright. He dropped his hand. Daichi came stalking toward them, and Asahi backed up at an equal pace. Nishinoya's eyes came open, his brows knit together in puzzlement. "Asa–" he started, cutting off as Daichi came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. Nishinoya made a sound like a choked cat.

"Hey, hey, hey," Daichi said, his face dark with promised calamity. "You bearded delinquent, what do you think you're doing?"

Asahi's mouth did not seem to be communicating with his brain. A dull ringing sound reverberated through his head. He shook his head helplessly.

"Dai-san!" Nishinoya blurted, "It's not like that, we–"

"And _you_." Daichi turned the attention of his piercing stare. "Nishinoya, you know this guy has the willpower of a dead eel!" He pointed fiercely at where Asahi stood gibbering in the street.

"And _what are you thinking_?" he demanded. "On the _street_? In _broad daylight_?" Daichi tore at his hair. "You two are going to make me go gray!"

"Daichi," Asahi tried feebly, "we–"

"No!" Daichi scrubbed one hand down his face and sighed heavily.

"Dai-san, it's not what you think," Nishinoya said.

Daichi gave him a look of total incredulity.

"Okay," Nishinoya conceded, "It's probably what you think."

"It's fine," Asahi said, "It's fine."

Daichi held up a hand to silence them. "You know what? It's too early for this. I don't want to know right now." He hiked his bag up his shoulder and started walking toward the school again. "I am going to go to practice and we are going to pretend that this never happened. But just – just." Daichi stopped and rubbed at his temples in frustration. "Just maybe try not to molest each other during practice today, alright?"

"Daichi!" Asahi yelped, blushing so hard that it seemed like his face might melt off.

Daichi started walking again, advancing on him ominously. Asahi veritably shrank in an attempt to make himself as small a target as possible. But Daichi just stopped in front of him. He lifted one hand and pointed at his own eyes with his index and middle fingers, then at Asahi. His eyes blazed. Asahi nodded wordlessly. Daichi repeated the motion at Nishinoya, who just held up his hands defensively. Then he turned on his heel and stalked away in the direction of the school.

Asahi caught Nishinoya's eye from across the road. Nishinoya stared at him, dumbfounded, and Asahi stared back in equal astonishment. Then Nishinoya burst into great peals of laughter.

Asahi fidgeted badly. His heart seemed to be participating in Olympic try-outs. "Nishinoya, it's not funny!"

"Oh my god," Nishinoya howled. "Oh my god." He bent at the waist and wrapped an arm around his stomach."Oh, Asahi-san, it's _hysterical_. Oh!" Nishinoya covered his face with his hand and snorted loudly into his palm. "Here I thought we were going to have this sexy little tryst and – and now Dai-san knows and _your mom knows_? – and oh my god."

Asahi's ears were aching from the heat of his flush. "Don't remind me!" he groaned. He'd spent so much of the last three days blushing that it would be a miracle if his capillaries weren't permanently damaged.

Nishinoya wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Admittedly – admittedly..." He took a deep breath and tried to get his breathing under control. "Admittedly this is going to make it a lot harder to sneak you off to the clubroom so I can debauch you properly."

"Nishinoya!" Asahi cried with a desparate look around. They were alone on the street, thankfully. "You can't just – say things like that!"

"Why not?" Nishinoya was on him suddenly, curling his fingers into Asahi's jacket on either side of the open zipper. "Wouldn't you like me to?"

"That's not the point," Asahi said weakly. He could feel his lingering terror battling with a spike of arousal in his belly. Nishinoya was giving him that same carnivorous look as the day before, and it made his legs feel weak in an entirely new way. "You've thought about that?" he asked, curiosity finally winning out over caution.

"Oh, Asahi-san," Nishinoya said, "it's all I can do to not tear off your clothes right here." He smoothed down Asahi's jacket and stepped back. "But I suppose you're right. We'll save that for later."

Asahi felt winded. "We should get going," he stammered nervously, and Nishinoya grinned at him in a way that was not entirely innocent. It was probably going to be another long day.

They started walking again. Asahi slowly felt the blood drain out of his face. The back of his neck was sweating, and he could feel his hair sticking already. But the morning air was cool, and that helped somewhat.

"You know," Nishinoya said at length, "since Dai-san knows, we can probably safely assume Suga-san will know by the end of the day. And between them, and Ryuu, and you and I – I mean, that's like half the team already!"

"Oh," Asahi said, remembering. "I meant to tell you. Kageyama knows too."

" _Kageyama_?" Nishinoya seemed genuinely startled. "How did he–"

Asahi cut him off with a sigh. "Don't even ask. It's a whole other story."

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the idioms for Noya's shirts.
> 
> 一致協力 “Combined Efforts”
> 
> 勇気百倍 “Redoubled Courage”
> 
> 物は試し “Things Should Be Tried”
> 
> 海内無双 “Without Peer in the Land”
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> If you liked this story, there is a brief epilogue, [Definition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3164144).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [No Problem So Awful](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697754) by [louandhaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louandhaz/pseuds/louandhaz)




End file.
